Page 27 of Always Mine

“One, no, and two, I’m not kidding! I’ve let you wallow for long enough! Come open this door or I’ll use your squirrel figurine to bust out your window!”

That stupid thing. Ember bought it for me as a gag housewarming gift when I moved in. It’s ugly, about three feet tall, and has the wordsWelcome to the Nutt houseprinted on it. Why didn’t I throw that damn thing away?

“You wouldn't!” I yell out, but I subtly shift away, half expecting the window to shatter in a second.

“You know I would!”

Regardless of how much I really don’t want to get off the couch and let her inside my place, I know she will, so I do. Wrapping my comforter around myself, I take my sweet time staggering to the door. I shoot her a glare when I snatch the door open, noting the ceramic statue in her hand and a mischievous smile on her face. She’s lost her damn mind. Did we really come from the same set of parents? I’m beginning to think she was switched at birth.

“Put that down and stop being a tyrant. I don’t have the energy for you today.” Then I spin around to go back to my blanket nest.

I hear the clunk of ceramic and hope she broke the damn squirrel. Then I’ll have an excuse to throw it out.

“Well, too bad,” she singsongs, rifling around on the porch before coming inside. “Because here I am. Now here, take some of this stuff, would ya? It’s heavy.”

Peeking at her from my burrito ball, I see she has an armful of bags and containers. “What the hell is all that?”

“Stuff for you, asshole. Help me.”

I groan, closing my eyes and tugging another blanket over my head again. “Just throw it anywhere and leave. I’m not in the mood.”

She grumbles something I don’t hear, loudly setting all the stuff down before my front door slams shut. I listen closely, not hearing any movement, and relax back into my nest. Only a second later, the top blanket is tugged off of me and thrown across the living room.

Should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.

I stick out my tongue, clutching the comforter that's wrapped around my body. “Jokes on you. I have two blankets.”

“You’re ridiculous.” She rolls her eyes, not at all amused, and then proceeds to upend several bags onto my coffee table.

I gasp, expecting some of the containers to bust open. She’s like a walking tornado. “What is all this?” I lean up, taking in the different foods and… “Is that a fruit basket?”

“Yup.” She pops the P before heading into my kitchen and coming back with two forks.

I don’t understand. It’s not my birthday, and I don’t remember signing up for anything. “Who’s it from?”

She plops her ass down next to me before passing me a fork, then grabs one of the pie pans and pops the lid open. The thing’s a mess, half of the filling stuck to the top from where she dumped it upside down, but it doesn’t deter her in the slightest. She dives in, making a sour face as she chews and pushes that pie to the side. Guess that wasn’t a winner.

“Don’t know. Someone in town. They’ve been dropping stuff off for you at Mama and Dad’s all week.”

My brows lift and I lean forward, putting down the fork and snagging the four-pack of Hawaiian Sweet Rolls. “You’re kidding.”

Waving her fork at all the food, she moves on to another pie. “Does it look like I’m kidding? Everyone wants to check in.”

And yeah, she’s right, there’s at least a dozen dishes here.

“Be nosey, more like,” I mutter, aggressively tearing open the wrapper and stuffing half a roll into my mouth. “They just want something to talk about.” Although my words are muffled, she definitely heard what I said because she replies almost instantly.

“Well, that too.” She sets the half-eaten pie down before grabbing some cake loaf thing next. When she sees me eyeing the yellow jelly-like pie pan—maybe Lemon meringue—she bats my hand away. “Don’t eat that last one, it tastes weird.”

“You didn’t even have to warn me. I’d never eat that anyway.” I have a thing with textures. If it’s jelly, gummy, or too thick, it’s not going in my mouth—no pun intended.

Tearing a piece off the loaf, she eats it and nods her head. “Now this is good.” She examines it and the package before shrugging. “I think it’s pumpkin bread. Want some?”

Ew, pumpkin? Hell no.

“I’m good with this, thanks,” I answer while waving around my rolls.

“Your loss. I’ll probably eat it all.”

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